20th Century Chinese Folklore Classics: Mythology Volume

Author: Yuan Li
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2002-03-01
Features: A vast plain of dry earth under the harsh sunlight, cracked into countless small fissures, panting under the scorching heat. In the distance, fine dust rose high into the air, resembling an endless curtain woven by spring rain. But spring rain brings excessive moisture, while here, the dryness is suffocating. The small streams are completely dry, revealing their bottoms and forming natural roads for men, horses, and carts. The bridges remain with a few exposed stone slabs, standing high on the road surface like exposed skeletons, very unpleasant. They remind one of the once clear, slippery water flowing peacefully beneath them. Just like "painting a cake to appease hunger," seeing the painting only makes one hungrier. Similarly, the bridges make one even more uncomfortable, reminding them of the lush, sparkling, and beloved water flowing there.
Many trees stand on the riverbed edges, like ghostly figures, their green leaves already withered and dried, covered with thick layers of dust on their bare branches. The lush green grass on the plain has long ceased to grow. The green rice seedlings in the fields have turned yellow and spotted with black. The small ponds at the edge of the fields, where water collects, now expose their concave bottoms, starkly visible. Here, the mulberry groves, the main source of livelihood for the farmers, were once densely scattered across the fields. Those ugly, short trees with gnarled trunks had once won the hearts of the farmers with their love and joy. Now, their fine leaves are withered and curled on the branches. In theory, at this time, the branches should be covered with lush, dense green leaves.
No one is not anxious. They pray to heaven and gods. They worship their ancestors and seek divination. Every family has exhausted all possible efforts, yet the "drought demon" remains like a vengeful ghost, refusing to leave no matter how they appease it. The farmers' silk production is now hopeless. If it does not rain heavily in a few more days, even food will become a serious problem. The autumn harvest is doomed to fail.
The men and women who have not gone to the fields or picked mulberries gather anxiously at the village entrance, whispering in low tones. The hearts of the people are in turmoil, some even agitated. The nearby dozens of villages are the same. The village chiefs have all gone to the city. Perhaps that person, the one named Tang, has done something against the heavens? The Great Emperor has unleashed such a severe punishment, and it must be Tang's fault!
The people are restless. Unrest prevails everywhere. The village chiefs have returned from the city, accompanied by the priests. The people immediately surround them, densely packed like bees returning to their hives, their eyes flashing with unusual, strange, and fierce light.
Looking at Tang, dressed in plain clothes, his hair disheveled, his expression somber, as if shrouded in a layer of darkness. His eyes are somewhat confused. The sun has made everyone panting. It seems the Great Emperor demands the blood of a sacrifice. We want rain! We need rain! Let it rain! Pray! Pray! Let us find a way to satisfy the Great Emperor! Something must have gone against the heavens! Someone must take responsibility to reverse this!
The farmers are agitated, shouting and yelling. The air is unusually tense. The Great Emperor demands a sacrifice! A human sacrifice! Blood! We must satisfy him! We must satisfy him! — As if someone was screaming wildly. To satisfy him!